I was raised by the Machiavelli.
Joseph Arden was just as handsome, just as dazzling, just as charming, equally disarming, and exploited his affect whenever it suited him.
But Dad had my devotion, and I was the only lady he couldn’t leave. That was my leverage. And I’m sure as hell not going to, nor will I ever, use my son as leverage for any man, especially his own father.
Troy pulls a five-dollar bill and a printed gift card from his pocket.
“I was thinking this code, and some cash would be cool. You know so he has some game money?”
“Oh? That’s perfect,” I say, grabbing him a water.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the bottle and standing wordlessly in the kitchen, staring at one of Dante’s drawings on the fridge.
“Troy, I’m sorry. I truly am.”
“It’s fine,” he says, eyes drifting over me before he darts them away. “Just so you know, I’m going to be working a lot, I’ve picked up more shifts to get Dante’s Christmas presents, and I’ve got my games.”
I cross my arms and nod. “Okay.”
“So, I won’t be able to watch him as often as I’d like. You might want to make other arrangements for Mr. BMW. The next few months are going to be grueling.”
“It’s fine. I understand. So, I was saying before that I’m sorry—”
“I heard you. You think he’s out enough for me to sneak in?”
I exhale the last of my hopes to rid the tension between us.
“I would give it a few more minutes just to make sure. He still believes in this stuff for the moment. I don’t want to take that away just yet.”
“Cool.” He leaves me in the kitchen, taking a seat in my recliner. “Mind if I watch Sports Center?”
“Uh, sure, yeah, go ahead.”
After a few minutes of amiable silence, I finally speak up.
“Tell me how this works.”
“What?”
“The draft.”
“If I draw enough interest, I get invited to the NFL Combine. It’s a four-day camp where reps from all thirty-two teams observe the potentials to see who’s the best fit for their franchise.”
“When will you know if you’re invited?”
“By the first of January.”
“That’s got to be nerve-wracking.”
“I have to make sure I’m ready. Push myself harder. No time for bullshit.”
I swallow his comment. “I’m sure you will. You look,” he turns to me, his lifeless stare making it hard for me to breathe. I’m not a fan of this version of Troy, and it stings me that he’s become so closed off. A complete one-eighty from the man who assured me he wasn’t going anywhere. It strikes me then just how much I wanted to believe him. “You look like you’ve been working out a lot.”
“Yeah.” He turns his attention back to the TV.
“And then what?”
Eyes still trained on the screen, he shrugs. “And then I may or may not get a letter to attend the draft. If I do, I’ll have the choice of showing up or watching from home.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll bring my mother. This is both our dream.”
“That’s really something. I love that you’re so close to her.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry I caused a rift between you. I’ve been meaning to apologize in person, but Dante has been around and—”
“Yeah, me too.” He stands, and I stop him with a hand on his chest, which he promptly removes. “Clarissa, I’m tired, okay? Too tired to fight.”
I step back, feeling slapped. “It’s okay, I think you’ve made yourself pretty clear.”
He lets out a heavy exhale. “Sorry, I’m not acting the way you need me to.”
“It’s not that, I just thought maybe—”
“Maybe what?”
His icy demeanor contradicts his statement. This man is itching for a fight.
“Nothing, let’s do this.”
“I’ve got it.” He heads toward Dante’s room. Standing at the door, I look on as he tucks the money inside his pillow after retrieving the tooth. Just as he starts to step away, Dante jackknifes in the bed mumbling something about a truck. Troy jumps back as I signal him from the door not to speak. Troy glances back to where Dante sits, his eyes still closed before he falls back into his bed, none the wiser. Troy steps outside the door. “That was close.”
“He does that sometimes, restless sleeper. Talks a little once in a while.”
“Yeah, I got smacked in the face when we went camping. I woke up with his toe in my ear.”
I chuckle. “He’s growing out of it. Out of so much. He called me Mom the other day and I almost cried.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve always been Mommy.”
“Must be nice,” he mumbles before stepping past me. “Thanks for letting me have my own first.”
“Troy, please, I just need you to understand. It’s just been him and me for so long.”
He stops in the center of my living room. “Oh, I think I’ve been pretty fucking understanding.”
“You have. And I appreciate it so much. Just—”
“Night,” he says without glancing my way.
Fed up, I call out to him from the front door as he starts to cross the lawn. “You know, you are going somewhere eventually, Troy. Eventually, you’re leaving, and where does this situation stand? Have you thought about that?”
In his eyes, all I see is contempt. “That’s all I think about. And if I can earn this ticket, Clarissa, he’ll never want for anything again. I’m making fucking sure of it. So, please, for once, stop telling me what to think, how to act, or what to feel, and stop giving me unsolicited dating advice. You want understanding? You got it. You want respect? All yours. You want patience? I’ve got some of that left for you too. You want me to think of him and only him, we’re on the same page. Cool?”
His venom is deserved, but I’m unprepared for the hurt it causes and can barely manage my reply. “That’s fine.”
“Night.”
Troy
Palming my forehead, I sit on the bench, feeling my mapped future falling away piece by piece. We just suffered another loss. One we can’t come back from. Our chances are slim to none at this point in making the playoffs. My college ball career is ending, and I’m having a tough time swallowing that I’ll never have a bowl game. The locker room is eerily silent. Coach didn’t mince his words with his pissing post-game rant. A few guys walk past me and give me a nod. I caught every pass, ran like my life depended on it, scored two touchdowns, but it wasn’t enough.
Lance slaps me on the back as he wordlessly leaves the locker room while the rest of the guys shed their gear. There’s nothing to be said, and today, even Kevin seems lost in his own thoughts.
I pull my phone from my duffle as I head out of the locker room.
Clarissa: I’m so sorry. If you need to talk, I’m here.
Talking is the last thing I want to do.
She’s been nothing but apologetic since our confrontation with Mom, and I’ve been nothing but a prick to her. It seems like any step forward I take with her always leads to a thousand back.
I don’t have much fight left in me. I’m exhausted from the expectations weighing me down. And for once, I just want to stay down.
In the past, after days like this, my first instinct would be to find a good party, a never-ending bottle, and a soft place to land, but nothing about that appeals to me.
My phone buzzes again, and I know it’s Mom.
Mom: Don’t give up, baby. You’re the best player on that team, and you played your heart out today.
I text her back because I don’t want her to worry or pop up to check on me. I just want to be alone.
Troy: I’m okay, Mom. I’ll brush it off. Love you.
Grabbing my gear, I head down the hallway and out to the parking lot. I’m halfway to my truck when I hear mixed voices spewing venom.
“Happy, you little bitch?”
“P-please, please stop!”
Dropping my duffle, I head toward the crowd and tense when I hear another cry. I make my way toward the commotion, moving bodies to get through it, and then all I see is red.
Clarissa
I knock on Troy’s door for the second time, knowing he’s home. Theo’s car is gone, but Troy’s King Cab is in its usual spot. When the door finally opens, it’s Lance who answers.
“Hey, how are you, Lance?”
“I’m good, Clarissa. Thanks for the cookies. They were delicious.”
“You’re welcome. I’m so sorry about the game.”
“Yeah,” he says, his disappointment clear, “that was something.” Lance is dangerously beautiful. When I first introduced myself to him, I was intimidated by his menacing stature. But he’s as gentle as they come, the strong silent type. At least that’s my impression of him now. Harper is far more outgoing. Briefly, I wonder how that dynamic plays out in their relationship.
“You played really well.”
“Not well enough,” I can see the sadness in his smile. “If you’re looking for Troy, he’s upstairs.”
“Thanks,” I make my way to Troy’s bedroom and knock once.
“Sup?” I hear him call from behind the door, and I poke my head in to see him tense when he sees me. Shirtless, he’s sprawled on his bed in sweatpants, books open and scattered all over his mattress. He catches his football mid toss. “What’s wrong, where’s Dante?”
“He’s fine. Parker’s with him.”
He lifts to sit, and that’s when I notice his bruised cheekbone and busted lip. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Difference of opinion with a bunch of assholes.”
“Can I look at it?” I sit down next to him on the bed and palm his cheek to examine his lip. He pulls out of my grip.
“I’m okay.”
“What happened?”
“I just told you. I got into a fight. It’s fine.”
“Not fine. You just lost a game and got into a brawl. I would say things are pretty shitty at the moment.”
“I’ll deal. Not the end of the world.”
“And what is the end of the world?”
He draws his brows. “What?”
“What’s the end of the world for Troy Jenner?”
He jerks his head back. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes. I would like to know.”
“Any harm coming to my son. Losing another fucking game, not getting drafted, bouncing another goddamned check. Pick a nightmare, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be condescending.”
“Right. Sorry. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m not in the mood for another lecture. As you can see, I’m busy. You can go.”
“You’re already kicking me out? You haven’t even fucked me yet.” I palm his bed and lean in with a seductive whisper. “Isn’t this where the magic happens?”
His jaw goes slack, and I congratulate myself.
“Ah, a reaction. Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Lady, you drive me crazy. How can I help you?” He stands and tosses his ball on the floor.
I pluck the ball from the carpet and toss it up. “First off, don’t call me lady, I’ve seen your dick, and it makes me feel old. Two, if you’re bouncing checks, Troy, I can go without one for a while until you get on your feet.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, cupping his neck. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Last time I checked, we were in this together. I’m okay. I want you to be okay too.”
He exhales heavily. “Clarissa, what’s this all about?”
“Because I’m worried about you. And I don’t like this static going on between us. We started a friendship, and you took it away from me. And I understand why you’re mad, I do, but we were trying to make it work for our son, and it was working. Despite the fact that you’re spinning all these plates and making it look easy, I want you to know I’m aware of how hard you’re working. And to let you know I care.”
His eyes rake over me skeptically. “You care, huh?”
I take a seat on the corner of his bed facing him. “Of course, I do. You have my son’s adoration and my respect for all you’re doing, and we can both tell that you’re having a hard time. Dante used his curse money yesterday to buy you this.” I pull the fishing lure from my jacket pocket and hold it out to him. “He said you like the bright blue ones that look like an octopus. He took great care in picking it out.”
He glances down fondly at the lure in his palm. “He loved fishing. And we didn’t even get a bite.”
“He misses you.”
He sighs and sits next to me on his mattress, cradling the lure in his hands. “I’ll do better.”
“Troy, this isn’t about you doing better. This is about us wanting to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”
“What do I need to do?”
“Do? Nothing. Just let us be there for you. Come over. I’ll make you dinner. You can spend time with your son, forget about all these burdens for a few hours and just chill. I don’t want any more hard feelings between us. I want to try and make this work.”
“Everything no longer going just fine?” He smirks.
“Cut the shit. You lavish all this attention, and then you just…”
The air grows thick as he inches in.
“Just what?”
“Take it away.” I swallow at the intensity of his gaze. I can feel the heat coming off his skin.
“Who’s missing my attention, Clarissa?”
“What?”
He kneels down in front of me, tipping my chin and forcing my eyes to his. “Who’s missing my attention?”
I can hear my breaths through my parted lips.
“We both miss having you around. I realize your schedule is hectic…” I reach out and run my finger over his lip, “but we’ve got a seven-foot tree in our house we haven’t decorated yet because he wanted to wait for you.”
Troy closes his eyes. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Troy, stop. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is an invitation.” I stand and offer my hand. “Come over, help him decorate his tree. I’ll make you dinner. We can do this together. Okay? It’s your first Christmas with him, and I don’t want you to miss it. I don’t want you to miss,” I try to swallow my guilt, but my voice shakes anyway, “I don’t want you to miss another one because of me.”
He takes my hand, towering over me, and it’s all I can do to keep from leaning in and inhaling a whiff of his cologne-scented skin. The man is temptation personified. I do my best to look unaffected, but all I want to do is release the string on his sweats. Somewhere between hating him and trying to forgive him, he’s unleashed the dormant hussy that dwells inside of me.
“So, you miss me?” He teases, and I roll my eyes. “Want to demonstrate how much?”
“Don’t push your luck, Jenner.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” It’s then I see some of the light I’ve been missing return in his eyes. “I’ve got a few notes to go over, and then I’ll come by.” I let my eyes drift down a little more before glancing at his open books.
“What’s your major?”
“Electrical engineering.”
I couldn’t be more shocked if he’d shot me.
He chuckles. “That look you’re giving me isn’t insulting at all.”
“Sorry,” I sputter. “It’s just…you failed sixth grade.”
He shakes his head. “Keep underestimating me, Ms. A. I like surprising you.”
“No issue there. It seems to be working in my favor.”
“Nothing better than a challenge.” He runs his tongue along his plump bottom lip, his eyes doing a full sweep as my pulse kicks up between my thighs.
“Easy, tiger. It’s a dinner invite. And please put a shirt on, or there’s a good chance Parker will lick you.”
“Dream on, stud. And stop looking at me like that.”
“Thought you missed my attention?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Troy
It’s the smallest things. The way she worries her lip when she concentrates. The way she tucks the hair behind her ears before pushing up the sleeves on her sweater. A sweater that’s way too big. No matter how hard I try, when I’m around her, I can’t stop feasting. The four of us gather in the living room with mountains of decorations surrounding us. Parker hooks the ornaments handing them to Dante, who strategically places them on the tree. Clarissa bought a little electric fireplace to sit in the corner of the living room which warms the space. Soulful Christmas music is playing, the atmosphere relaxed. From behind my door to the inside of hers, it feels like a different world. And for the first time in weeks, I breathe a little easier.
It’s a different home in comparison to the one I live in. Our tree is a sad ass Charlie Brown number Theo bought and decorated with exactly four Grand ornaments. It’s a far cry from the lush Fraser Fir my boy is decorating. I love the light in his eyes, which I have decided are his mothers’. The minute I entered the house, and Dante greeted me with open arms, my mood shifted.
This was precisely what I needed to suck up the loss.
And the fact that Clarissa admitted she missed me, well that’s a different league of feelings. Feelings I’m not ready to act on just yet. With her, it’s a curved line to walk. I could tell the other night I’d let her down. I haven’t backed up a word I’ve said when it comes to her because of our lingering issues, but she doesn’t seem to hold it against me, which is surprising.
“Hey, you, lazybones. Quit acting like you played four quarters today and open a box,” she jokes, pushing a large tub my way. “We’ve got work to do.”
“If I’m going to work, I’m going to need more of this.” I lift my empty mug of eggnog, and Parker does the same.
“Me too. What’s in this? It’s like magic on my tongue.”
“Agreed,” I say, warming from the slight buzz of rum.
The Guy on the Left Page 18